The shrill scream she gave when she found her face in contact with the
wild intruder, might have been heard over at Dr. Ashton's. Clerk Gum, who
had been quietly writing in his office, came out in haste, and recognized
Mrs. Jones, the wife of the surly porter at the station, and step-mother
to the troublesome young servant, Rebecca. Pike had totally disappeared.

Mrs. Jones, partly through fright, partly in anger arising from a
long-standing grievance, avowed the truth boldly: she had been listening
at the parlour-shutters ever since she went out of the house ten minutes
ago, and had been set upon by that wolf Pike.

"Set upon!" exclaimed the clerk, looking swiftly in all directions for
the offender.

"I don't know what else you can call it, when a highway robber--a
murderer, if all tales be true--steals round upon you without warning,
and glares his eyes into yours," shrieked Mrs. Jones wrathfully. "And if
he wasn't barefoot, Gum, my eyes strangely deceived me. I'd have you and
Nancy take care of your throats."

She turned into the house, to the best parlour, where the clerk's wife
was sitting with a visitor, Mirrable. Mrs. Gum, when she found what the
commotion had been about, gave a sharp cry of terror, and shook from head
to foot.

"On our premises! Close to our house! That dreadful man! Oh, Lydia, don't
you think you were mistaken?"

"Mistaken!" retorted Mrs. Jones. "That wild face isn't one to be
mistaken: I should like to see its fellow in Calne. Why Lord Hartledon